Coocoo for Coco's

I must admit, yesterday was a pretty good day. I had a nice relaxing day at work complete with Dead Like Me watching and Sporcling. Did some cleaning at the apartment so it looks presentable, not that there's anybody it needs to be presentable for, but I'd rather not have large black flies buzzing around my head while I'm trying to take a shower. After work I enjoyed some recorded TV such as The Colbert Report designating Hurricane Katrina as a Democrat and PTI discussing the Jordan Crawford slamdango of LeBron. I made myself some mac & cheese for dinner. I made about a pound of it and I ate the whole thing. Let me tell you, carrying all that weight around in your stomach does not feel good. Note to self: follow Tony Sinclair's advice and enjoy all good things in moderation.



Now for the real adventure of the day: Kentucky.



We had planned to go to this bar down in Covington called Coco's for their Thursday night special of $1 bottles of beer and $1 mixed drinks. The mixed drinks were small like the ones you get at DERF 10 for 10, probably a little smaller. If it's any indication of the size and alcohol content I think I drank about 8 and I was only working a buzz. The real party had nothing to do with drinking though. First off, it was some random man's birthday and as a result the bar manager was passing out cupcakes. To everyone. Even if you didn't want one. I got one with blue frosting and John got one with yellow frosting so I promptly traded. I didn't even eat the frosting I just like the color. While this is going on the DJ starts up with some hot jams. He played a mix of I'd say about 10 or so Michael Jackson songs. A fitting tribute to the King of Pop. This is when the heated discussion of the greatness of Billie Jean came up between Scott and myself. I had to defend my claim that not only is Billie Jean not one of the 5 best songs ever, it's not even one of the top 5 MJ songs. Hell, it's not even top 10. I know everybody likes to cream themselves whenever the song comes on, and yes, it is an excellent song, but MJ has done so much better in his career. You Are Not Alone, Dirty Diana, Beat It, Smooth Criminal, Thriller, On The Line, Will You Be There, They Don't Care About Us, Human Nature. All these songs are better and deserve recognition. And I do realize I only listed 9 so don't go saying Billie Jean must be your number 10. I just don't have the definitive list written out yet, I'll save that for one of my list specials.



Anyways, after some more hot jams Jacki showed up. Jacki is awesome and is coming to Vegas with us. After some casual conversation something catches my eye. Coco's has two Twister games sitting behind the bar. Twister is fucking awesome. I point out this fact to Jacki and she says that if I go get it that she will play with me. I make her pinky swear on it so as to make it official. I go up to the bar to order us some drinks and then casually mention Twister to the bartender. He tells me that it is played on Sundays. Yesterday was not Sunday so I ask him if I could take it over to this empty space in the bar to play. He apparently is not the Twister master because he deferred me to the younger bartender who looked like he listened to a lot of Fall Out Boy. Despite this fact he was willing to let me take it if I promised not to break it cause this looked like the deluxe Twister. It came in a wooden box and had an aluminum spin board. We sealed the deal with some fist bumps and the game was on. It starts slow with a Right Hand blue for me and a Left Foot Yellow for Jacki. After some more rudimentary maneuvers Jacki ends up being entangled in herself and falls down. I win and I am awesome. I celebrate by having a drink. I didn't think anything could surpass the greatness of Twister, but I was wrong.



Coco's also has a dart machine in the corner. I say dart machine and not dart board because it is one of those electronic plastic ones where the darts don't stick very well and sucks. I throw a couple darts and because I'm somewhat good at dart I get a bullseye on my second throw. I figured that would be the end of darts for the night but Crotch proceded to put his hand on the dartboard as if inviting people to throw at him. Scott takes a turn and misses with all three of his darts. Jacki goes next and connects with her last dart, but it was pretty weak and Crotch doesn't even flinch. My turn. I narrowly miss Crotch's pinky with my first dart. I steel my nerves and takes a precision shot right onto Crotch's palm and rapid fire my next dart to the same area. 2 points for Nick. Crotch decides that this is enough masochism for the night. I must have looked wasted and/or terrible at darts because after about a minute some random guy comes up to me and asks me if I wanted to play. I say sure because I like darts. He then asks me if I want to play for money. I contemplate for a moment that this guy may be a hustler a la Paul Newman, but I quickly banish that thought with the reminder that I've been playing darts for at least 10 years now and the only person I've played that can beat me is Papa Rosati. I agree to a $5 dollar bet and we decide on Cricket as our game. Cricket is a game where the goal is to hit 15 through Bull 3 times each, and then end up with more points than your opponent at the end. Points are gained by hitting a number that you have already hit 3 times and that your opponent hasn't closed out (hit 3 times). I start off decently by putting 2 in the 18. My opponent gets up and is not close to being precise with his throws. It is at this point that I have assured victory in my head. After a few more turns 20s, 19s, 18s and 16s have been closed out and I have only 3 17s and 2 Bulls left whereas my opponent has all 3 17s, 15s and Bulls left. I am, however, down in points 19-18. I decide to go for points instead of the 17s because it is much easier to get points not having to throw at the bullseye. Bam, triple 15. This game is all but over. My next turn I hit a triple 17 and I end it with a bullseye the turn after that. I have now just paid for my drinks for the night.

The rest of the night at the bar consisted of much dancing and singing. My favorite moments of this period were the group Cupid Shuffle of which I am a pro at thanks to Workshop and Longworth's, and my display of my Thriller dance moves. This is the reason Erin is taking me to the wedding on Saturday: I can really cut a rug. After a rowsing rendition of Don't Stop Believin' we decide that it is pretty late and I have to get up in 5 hours for work. FML. Scott, Crotch and I walk Jacki to her car while Javi goes to get his car to drive us back. It is at this point you may ask yourself, "Wait, wasn't John part of this story?" Right John was part of this story until he decided he had had enough and left before even the Twister began. John is lame. We arrive at Jacki's car, part ways, and Javi picks us up. On the ride home the 4 of us were rocking out to some song that I can't remember and annoyingly singing to this girl who was driving next to us talking on the phone. She occasionally looks over, smiles and gives a little laugh. While we stopped at the light right by Newport she turns to us and says something that sounds like "You're hot." This was, in fact, not what she said. She repeats herself and we clearly hear her say "Scott?" Scott then says "Beth?" (Note: Beth might not have been what Scott said, but she looked like a Beth so that is what I will call her) Javi and I are really confused in the front and Scott tells us that he went to grade school with this girl. Most. Random. Run-in. Ever. I conclude that this is a great end to the night and when we arrive back at John's house I drive home.

I give this night a 8 out of 10 on the fun scale.